


Death

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan's death from Courfeyrac's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death

“Where’s Jehan?” Courfeyrac asked in the midst of battle, looking around for the blonde. He was nowhere to be found, and even Enjolras paused to search for the small poet. Where had he gone? 

Then, they heard it. The first scream. 

It made them all cringe. Enjolras was the first to recover, but he closed his eyes when the second scream came. They were all-too familiar with the terrible noises they heard, coming from just down the street. Jehan. 

Courfeyrac, not for the first time that day, dropped his gun and darted over the furniture, nearly throwing himself over the barricade to get to his poet. 

Arms pulled him back, though, even as tears stung his eyes. “Courfeyrac, stop it. Stop it. I know, I know. But we can get him back.” He heard Enjolras’ voice before he saw him, and he looked just as distressed as Courfeyrac. 

“By killing every last one of them?” Courfeyrac suggested dryly, wiping his eyes as somebody guided him into a chair. 

“No,” Enjolras said, gesturing to the tavern where Javert still waited for his death. “One of theirs for one of ours.” 

Combeferre got the hint and fashioned a white flag with the help of the others, and left. he exchanged words with one of the Guardsmen, nodded, and returned. 

“They’ve agreed.” He said, and there was a collective sigh of relief among the Amis. 

“Good.” 

They waited. And waited. Courfeyrac worried, growing even more anxious with time, until they heard a scuffle outside the barricade. He sat up instinctively and peered over, his eyes widening. 

Jehan stumbled to where he was pushed towards the barricade, his wrists bound. His face and arms were bloodied, his shirt ripped down his thin frame. Cuts and already-formed bruises littered him, and Courfeyrac felt a flare of anger in his gut.

He looked small, but he didn’t look afraid. Rather than cowering, he raised his head to stare into his executor’s eyes. “Vive l’France! Long live the Republic!” He yelled, his voice sounding firmer and louder than most had ever heard it. 

With those words, Jehan looked up, his still-bright eyes finding Courfeyrac’s. He mouthed two tiny, heart-shattering words, before the gunshots sounded and Jehan crumpled to the cold ground.

 _I’m sorry._

Courfeyrac let out a strangled shout of the man’s name and fought against the hands that held him back, trying to get to Jehan. _His_ Jehan.

It was over. 

Jehan Prouvaire was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! Please, let me know what you think!


End file.
